


America's Favorite Cookie

by devils_trap



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, bff issues and hallmark moments, lots and lots of oreos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devils_trap/pseuds/devils_trap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm tired of being the jealous fucking girlfriend, okay? I just want my friend back. I...I don't care that he gets you some of the time. I don't care that I have to share some of our time with him! Make us a time schedule and tell me my hours. I can do joint custody. Fuck it, joint custody is my middle name! Call me Stiles Joint Custody Stilinski!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	America's Favorite Cookie

Between the Alpha Pack moving in on their shit and Isaac becoming the friendship equivalent of a cockblock, the fight had been a long time coming. The tension mounted up like sand in an hourglass whenever Scott would ask for a raincheck on their weekly movie night, or timidly ask if Isaac could tag along to whatever thing they were planning on doing.

And it mounted, and it mounted, until they were choking on it. Spitting grains of sand out of their teeth whenever they passed, backs pulled taut and hackles up, missing each other like a severed limb but unable to be the one to buckle first. Unable to be the one who bit the bullet and accepted the change in their routine, the one that had remained untainted, unchanged since they met in the third grade, Stiles the loud Sheriff's son that everyone tolerated for that fact alone, and Scott the quiet new kid with big brown eyes and a mother that worked too many hours to get them by.

Lycanthropy hadn't throw a wrench in practically anything, but this? Attempting to make their dynamic duo into a trio? That shit shut down the entire machine.

Stiles had nothing against Isaac. Honestly. Except for, y'know, maybe threatening to kill Lydia and the Lock, Shock and Barrel impersonation he, Erica and Boyd sometimes did, terrorizing Beacon Hills with their claws, leather jackets and after school special issues.

Stiles was glad--elated, enraptured, exalted, and all those other great E words!--that he had a friend that wasn't locking him in a freezer or nearly drowning neighborhood kids in the pool. He was glad there was someone looking out for him that at least had some of their shit in order.

But why did that friend have to be  _Scott_ , the boy that had been Stiles' best friend since Stiles had wriggled out of his assigned seat (against direct orders from Mrs. McMitchell, their third grade teacher who treated her students like they were her platoon and she was back in Vietnam), his tongue clamped between his lips in determination, to offer the new boy with sad eyes some Oreos when his mother had forgotten to pack him a snack.

Scott was Stiles' as much as Stiles was Scott's, and it had been that way for so long that the thought of having to share him made Stiles' chest hurt. Call it selfish, call it whatever the fuck you wanted, but them's the breaks. It was supposed to be Stiles 'n Scott, Scott 'n Stiles, terrorizing the town with their too-big limbs, hyperactivity, and Asthma. Where you found one you found the other, and  _that was how it was supposed to be_. 

\- - -

When things finally came to a head, the sun was shining and the weather was warm. They were in the woods doing recon against the Alpha Pack. Their scents were all over the fields to the left of the Hale House. The fields were far enough away from the Hale property line that the smell of soot and charred wood was only very faintly in the air, but close enough to it that it personally offended Derek.

While traipsing through knee-high grass, swatting away bugs  _and_  trying to be stealthy wasn't exactly fun, Stiles and Isaac hadn't said anything snotty to each other so Scott was counting it as a win. He had been about to start humming a little victory tune until Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket and he fell behind, texting furiously next to a giant, ancient Redwood.

Derek walked forward a few paces before he pivoted around gracefully, hands firmly anchored on his hips. "Why did you stop?" 

"How do you even have signal out here?" Erica grumbled with a hairband between her teeth, hands furiously working behind her head to gather her mane of hair into a high ponytail. There was a leaf in her hair. Silently Boyd extracted it.

"Dude,  _dude_!" Stiles began, bouncing on the tips of his toes. Ignoring Derek's pleas for him to lower his voice, Stiles kept on, barely containing his excitement. "Do you know what tomorrow is, Scott?"

"The Fourth of July?" Isaac supplied.

Stiles firmly ignored him. "Scott!"

"Fourth of--shit, tomorrow is our annual Die Hard marathon!" 

"Yeah it is! Dad just texted me and wanted to know what snacks we wanted." Stiles pumped his fist in the air and for the first time in weeks, Stiles and Scott shared a laugh. It was frayed around the edges and bordering on hysterical, but God strike him down in this (probably) tick infested woods if Scott didn't miss the way their laughs synced up.

"You have a Die Hard marathon every Fourth of July?" snorted Boyd.

"Red, white and bad _ass_!" crowed Stiles and Scott in tandem, gleefully cheering over Derek's groans of, "Please shut the hell up", "this is serious!" and "if the Alpha Pack is out here, they probably know we're here by now and they're going to  _maul_ _us_."

Stiles pumped his fist in the air again. "I'm going to make my Buffalo dip, and dad's gonna grill, and we're gonna eat until we're sick like we do every year. Oreos everywhere. You can dip yours in the Buffalo dip again, I don't even care."

"And then we're gonna go watch the fireworks on top of the Jeep and eat more Oreos." Scott's eyes were big and reverent as he unconsciously walked towards Stiles. 

Everything felt right and whole again until Isaac quietly cleared his throat. He at least had the decency to look sheepish about killing the lovefest going on, but Stiles still narrowed his eyes at him. "Scott...I thought we were gonna do stuff with Erica and Boyd tomorrow?"

For a few long, tense seconds, Scott watched the vein in Stiles' neck jump. He felt all the blood rush away from his face and he desperately wanted to ask Stiles if it looked like that Halloween when they played in Scott's mom's make-up to look like vampires, just to steer as far away as possible from this conversation. He wanted to climb over Isaac and tell him to be quiet, please, for the love of God. He wanted to steal a Time Turner and go back to when he had made Fourth of July plans with Isaac, and firmly hit himself in the face. Maybe split himself in half and give the pieces to Stiles and Isaac. Play dumb when Stiles' half of him was noticeably larger. "Stiles, I--"

"No," Stiles said, voice flat and without inflection. He clenched his hands into fists. His phone squeaked loudly in the silent field under the pressure of his fingers.

"Stiles--" Scott took a desperate step forward, hands out to placate his best friend. Arms extended forward, palms faced towards the other party, eye contact, make your face open yet calm, just like the hospital had drilled into his mother when she had that Personal Conduction in the Workplace seminar. Which she had to attend after Scott and Stiles terrorized the floor she was picking up a shift on. He and Stiles used to joke about that, laugh about it until they cried, but here they were now.

Stiles cleared his throat. He fixed his gaze on the shrub to Scott's right and took a deep breath. After a pause he quietly said, "I caved with our normal movies nights. I bit my cheek when you invited him to The Diner with us. I even let him use my favorite XBOX controller when we had our Call of Duty tournament. But I refuse to share this."

"Stiles, it's okay," Scott tried again, desperately trying to make eye contact. He felt like he was drowning in the grass that swished around their knees. Halfheartedly he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just let it take him. Hadn't they just been laughing and having a moment?

"This is ours, this has been ours since the sixth grade and my mother died, and God dammit I will not share this, too!" Stiles' voice shook with emotion and his face flooded with color. Tears welled in his eyes from the frustration and Stiles let out a hurt, animal sound; scrubbed at his eyes angrily with the sharp cut of his wrist. "He has Erica and Boyd and, hell, even Jackson, and I'm tired of being the old toy and being ignored when you were mine first!"

"Stiles..." Isaac whispered, hands up like Scott's. He took a look at Scott for help, but the point was moot. Scott was frozen and looked about ready to cry, hands out and mouth gaping like some kind of stroked out mime. He looked around for help, for anything, and got nothing. Everyone else that had come along to search out the Alpha Pack's stomping grounds looked at the dirt awkwardly, not wanting to eavesdrop on a conversation better suited for privacy.

"I'm tired of being the jealous fucking girlfriend, okay? I just want my friend back. I...I don't care that he gets you some of the time. I don't care that I have to share some of our time with him! Make us a time schedule and tell me my hours. I can do joint custody. Fuck it, joint custody is my middle name! Call me Stiles Joint Custody Stilinski!" He swept his arms through the air. "But it's never just you and me anymore and I really, really fucking hate it, okay? You still have me, you'll  _always_  have me, but God dammit Scott do I still have you?"

Finally he sought Scott's gaze. He was holding his breath and didn't even know when he had started doing that.

When Scott said nothing, mouth opening and shutting without saying anything, he released his breath with a broken laugh and scrubbed at his face again. "Forget it. I'll see you guys later." 

Shaken out of his stupor yet rooted to his spot, Scott called for Stiles until he couldn't see him anymore, voice rising in desperation the further Stiles got from him. When Stiles couldn't be seen anymore Scott grabbed at his hair and yanked. He walked around in a circle and cursed loudly until Isaac gripped tightly at his shoulder. Then he stopped and laughed hysterically, staring at Isaac's hand like he had never seen it before.

"Am I a shitty friend?" Scott asked.

"No," Isaac replied firmly.

"Because I feel like a shitty friend right now and good friends don't have to wonder if they're shitty friends." To be honest, he looked shell-shocked. His face was still pale and he was taking in slow, shuddering breaths, eyes fixed in the direction that Stiles had gone. He felt like he was going to have an Asthma attack.

Isaac made a noise in the back of his throat. "I think I'm the shitty friend."

Big brown eyes flitted over to Isaac's face in confusion.

"I'm just not...I've been greedy? And I know I've been taking away from your time with him, but all of this is still really new to me." Isaac felt suddenly exhausted. If he wasn't worried about ticks or chiggers devouring him alive in the grass or God forbid the Alpha Pack finding him, he'd lay down right now and sleep this all away. "I feel like a homewrecker."

Somewhere behind them a "you totally should" was mumbled, and then an elbow roughly connected with someone's abdomen. Isaac idly mused that the voice was Boyd's and the elbow was Erica's.

A throat cleared as a breeze drifted through the woods.

"You should probably go after him," Derek said. Everyone looked at him and he fidgeted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "You two can be a pain in my ass, but it's always you two together. Being a pain in my ass."

Boyd laughing quietly drew everyone's attention. "I remember you guys flooding the middle school bathroom that one year. My teacher didn't even question why the second floor was flooded. Just said it was probably Stiles and Scott and kept on teaching." His smile was soft and fond, and Scott was suddenly filled with guilt over not getting to know him before the Bite.

"We were trying to see how much toilet paper it would take for the toilet to clog. We didn't actually want it to flood the entire  _floor_. We got...carried away. Too much free time." It hadn't actually taken a lot to clog the toilet, but Stiles and Scott lost themselves in the mindless glee of shredding the tissue thin toilet paper. By the time they realized they had forced in almost three of the gigantic, industrial-sized rolls of it into the toilet bowl, there was no way the toilet wasn't going to overflow.

The entire second floor flooding and the water running down the stairs, though, that was unanticipated.

"Weren't you two the ones that made that girl puke last year when we were doing the dissection of fetal pigs?" Erica asked, and by now everyone was starting to grin, everyone thinking of a story to tell. 

Scott's face hurt he was smiling so hard. "I made the pig dance and its organs fell all over her desk. Stiles almost pissed himself he laughed so hard."

"You almost had an Asthma attack, didn't you?" Isaac questioned, thinking.

Wiping at the corner of his eyes, Scott nodded, grin stretching his face comically wide.

"Weren't you two the ones that accused me of murder twice?" Derek asked, deadpan.

Scott startled himself laughing so hard. Derek's lips quirked upward.

"You should go," Isaac said softly, pushing at Scott's back. "I can't hear him anymore, but I doubt he's made it to his car yet."

"I feel like I'm in a bad romantic comedy," whispered Scott, a little dazed.

"You kind of are. If you get to him fast enough you can probably run across the field to him with open arms," Derek said, sage like.

"We're still friends, Isaac!" Scott turned around, arms flailing, and grabbed Isaac by the shoulders. "Still friends!"

A small smile made its way onto Isaac's face, and to Scott's relief it met his eyes. "I know. Go get him."

"This really is a bad romantic comedy," Erica whispered.

As he ran from them, Scott could barely make out Derek sighing and ordering everyone back to base. Since the Alpha Pack hadn't come running in to ruin their (loud) Hallmark Moment, they probably weren't around this area in the first place. Boyd was musing about how they probably hung around out here just to piss Derek off when Scott fell out of earshot.

Running without Asthma was a novelty Scott would never tire of. Being able to run without worrying about having an Asthma attack and maybe dying before being able to reach his inhaler was probably the best part about being a werewolf. Scott let his thoughts wander as he ran, focusing on everything and nothing while he pumped his arms.

When Scott had made his way from the fields and back to the porch of the Hale House, Stiles was already gone. The smell of oil and the cheap Febreeze Stiles used on his seats was still detectable above the smell of charred wood and Derek's issues, so he couldn't have been gone long. Scott slowed down to a jog and trailed behind Stiles, mildly disappointed that he wouldn't get to call Stiles to stop in the middle of a field, and run to him with open arms.

The jog trickled down into complete stillness when Scott followed Stiles' trail past one of Beacon Hills' small, locally owned grocery stores. He fumbled around in his pockets, blindly groping for his wallet, and did a fist pump before making his way inside. The looks tossed at him were deliberately ignored as Scott made his way to the snack aisle. 

\- - -

Half an hour later, Scott was standing on the Stilinski's porch, knocking on the door with his right foot. When Sheriff Stilinski opened the door and took in the sight of Scott McCall, arms laden with multiple packets of Oreos, and a jug of milk and two disposable cups balanced precariously on the topmost box, he just sighed and let the boy in.

"He's in his room," he mumbled, flapping his hand at Scott as he headed for the kitchen. "Please unbreak his heart or something."

The trip up the stairs would've been disastrous sans the werewolf agility. The milk and its cups toppled off their perch and would have crashed to the floor if it hadn't been for Scott's mini heart attack and Spiderman moment, using his tower of Oreo packages instead of a lunch tray. He we about to mumble to himself about how he wished Stiles had been there to see that when he looked up and saw Stiles, standing in front of his bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest. He was trying not to smile and mostly succeeding. "What are you doing? Gonna be Spiderman too?"

"Can we have this conversation when we get into your room? It's kind of hard to be serious when I can't see through Oreos," Scott said, peeking his head around the packages in his arm.

For a moment neither of them moved. Then Stiles nodded softly and entered his room, leaving the door open. Scott closed it behind himself with his foot.

The Oreos were sat down on Stiles' bed after Stiles took a seat at the end of it. In silence, Scott poured them each some milk and sat the jug on the floor. 

"I'm sorry," Scott began. When Stiles opened his mouth, Scott raised his hand. "And I'm talking." Stiles snorted. "I'm sorry about trying to bring Isaac into everything. I'm sorry about being a shitty friend and not realizing that maybe once in a while you wanted to hang out, just you and me. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner in the field, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. I bought all these Oreos and I ended up eating a pack by myself outside the store and it looked really, really sad. Werewolf metabolism isn't fast enough for an entire thing of Oreos in like five minutes. I gave myself a stomach ache. Then Derek drove by and told me to get in and drove me here. I had another package but Derek took one and called it compensation for emoting all over him and hypothetically killing us had the Alpha Pack been in that field."

"Did you walk all the way from the field?" Stiles asked with a blink. "Cause you have stuff all in your hair."

"Yeah." Scott smiled lazily and dipped an Oreo. "Wait, what?"

"You have like...crazy leafs in your hair. And some dirt on your face." Stiles leaned forward and started picking things out. Some of the chunks were pretty big. One was actually an entire leaf.

"Huh." That explained the looks he got in the store. Ten bucks said word would get around to his mother. He probably looked like some deranged sociopath covered in leafs and dirt with an armful of Oreo packages.

He shrugged.

Scott stuffed his Oreo in his mouth and talked around it, "Oh well. I was like...right behind you, though. I kind of wish you walked slower so we could have had a moment running across the field. Derek suggested it. But if you had done that we would have missed my Spiderman moment and I'm pretty sure we can have a chick flick moment anytime we want."

"Should I start calling you Wolf Spider?" 

They laughed quietly for a few moments, thankful for being able to just laugh together again.

Then Stiles fell quiet and said, "Dude, I just...I don't mind sharing you with Isaac. It's fine. But you're my best friend and I want...I just wanna hang out, you and me sometimes. Oreos and fart jokes and just us."

"I'm not sorry about being friends with Isaac."

"I don't think you need to be sorry about--" mumbled Stiles, dipping his cookie into his milk. Aggressively dipping it, actually.

Scott stilled Stiles' hand and smiled. "I'm not sorry, because Isaac is a good friend. But you're my best friend, man, and nothing's going to change that, okay?" 

Unable to maintain the eye contact, Stiles dropped his gaze to his now soggy cookie and sighed. "I'm going to have to apologize to Isaac, aren't I?"

"Most definitely," Scott agreed. "But you can wait until the fifth. I believe we have plans?"

Stiles nodded his head a few times and dipped another cookie, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before popping the entire Oreo in his mouth. "I take back what I said earlier, though. I don't think we can be friends if you dip your Oreo in my Buffalo dip again. I'm just saying, that's just really, really gross. Third grade me didn't give a cookie to third grade you so that in our teen years you could go and desecrate the Oreo and our friendship by dipping it in Buffalo dip."

**Author's Note:**

> The nurses' seminar hand-eye thing is a real thing _my_ mother experienced and bitched to me about. The fetal pig situation is from my own experience with tenth grade biology and fetal pigs. :-)
> 
> Originally posted on my [Tumblr](http://devils-trap.tumblr.com/post/36762752610/waaaah-ok-so-i-kind-of-wrote-a-ficlet-in-almost)!


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